I cried in the shower.
I got out a good cry while I took a hot shower and washed my hair, and then I stayed in there, letting cool water hit my face for about five minutes before I got out. It was hardly noticeable that I'd been crying by the time I blasted myself with cool water.
I cried because I hated myself for the way I acted the night before. Michael had shown up on my doorstep, and instead of embracing him like I should have done, I messed everything up. I cried because I remembered some of the hurtful things I said to him, and I wished so desperately I could take them back.
I had looked into his eyes and told him straight to his face that he had lost his chance with me forever when he ended things last summer. I asked him to leave and told him I didn't want to see him anymore. I had been a drunken emotional wreck, and now there was nothing I could do to take back all of the things I said in the heat of the moment. I was plagued with regret and dreaded going back into the living room to face Michael or find him gone.
I put one foot in front of the other and went through the motions of getting dressed. I towel dried and combed my hair before changing. I started to wear pants and a blouse, but it was still early, and I just didn't feel like getting dressed.
I wore a nice set of polka-dot pajamas—a pair of matching cotton pedal pushers and a short-sleeve button-down top. I headed into the living room, feeling terrified that Michael would be there waiting for me and even more terrified that he'd be gone.
"Hello?" I called softly as I came down the hall.
"Hey."
I heard his voice come from the living room, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. My shoulders visibly slumped when I heard it. I straightened before I rounded the corner. I was still reeling a little bit, but I felt clean and somewhat more comfortable after a long shower and two thorough teeth-brushings.
Michael was sitting on the edge of the couch.
There he was—the man of my dreams.
He was the one.
It was no wonder I'd been so lost without him.
I thought he might get up, but instead, he stayed on the couch regarding me as if wondering what I was going to do or say.
He was barefoot with his jeans rolled up. The night before, he had on a collared shirt, but now he just had on his undershirt—a fitted white t-shirt.
I made eye contact with him. His blue eyes were full of care and concern as he watched me walk toward him slowly. I wanted so badly to make things right with him. I wanted to erase last night. I wanted to erase the last year.
I couldn't bring myself to fall into his arms the way I wanted, so instead, I crossed the room and sat at his feet. I didn't ask his permission or tell him what I was doing; I just walked over and sat on the floor next to him. His feet were separated because of the way he was sitting on the edge of the couch, so I sat close to his right leg. I slid in beside him, holding onto his leg like it was a teddy bear. I rested my face on his thigh, looking away from him.
Michael put his hand on my head, letting his fingers gently trace my hairline. I held on to his leg. I was too overwhelmed with regret to think of what to say. I didn't even know where to begin.
"I'm sorry," I said. I figured it was just as good a place as any to start.
He was quiet for a few seconds before rubbing his hand over the back of my head. I had a headache, but his touch still sent a thrill through me.
Neither of us said anything for a minute. Michael rubbed my head gently, and we just sat there, not talking.
"I made you some coffee," Michael said finally. He gestured toward a mug that was on the nearby coffee table.
"Thank you," I said. "I thought that was yours." (There was a pause.) "I'm sorry," I added again.
"Ivy, I’m the one who should be sorry," Michael said. "None of this would have ever happened if I wouldn't have…" He trailed off. He was using a cautious tone that made me feel like he was still a little bit wary after our ordeal the night before. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he repeated, still touching my head.
I got onto my knees and reached for the mug that was on the other side of the coffee table. The caffeine would, no doubt, help my headache, so I planned on drinking it quickly. Michael knew how I took my coffee, and it had cooled to a perfect temperature while I was in the shower. I drank it down in a few short sips. I sat the empty mug on the table before climbing onto the couch next to Michael.
He had been sitting on the edge, but he readjusted when I sat next to him, turning to face me. He looked at me. His gorgeous blue eyes were full of cautious hope.
"I'm sorry for my behavior last night," I said sincerely. "I feel like I might have ruined whatever you came here to say to me, and I'm really sorry for that. I really am. I wish I could take everything back. I didn't expect you to show up here, and I think I panicked. I could have handled that a lot better. I guess I was just embarrassed—probably scared, too. I'm really sorry."
Michael turned so that he could take me into his arms. He held me tightly, hugging my head to his chest. "I'm sorry too," he said.
I could hear his deep voice reverberating in his chest, and it made me feel like I wanted to cry. I guess maybe I wanted to cry in general. You'd think I'd be all cried-out after last night and just now in the shower, but I wasn't. I had so desperately wanted to be in his arms for the past year that there was nothing I could do to hold back tears of relief. A few of them silently streamed down my cheek.
"I don't like how I acted last night," I said, blinking to clear my eyes. "I'm embarrassed, and I'm so happy you're still here after that."
"I knew you didn't mean all that stuff you were saying," he said, holding me close. "It still stung a little, but I knew you didn't mean it."
"I don't know why I did it. I knew I wanted you to stay. I knew all the things I was saying were wrong, but I just kept saying them. I really wish I hadn't been drinking when you came here."
For whatever reason, it was really hard for me to say that last part. It was difficult for me to admit that drinking had anything to do with it, but the fact of the matter was that it did.
"Have you been drinking a lot?" Michael asked.
I was quiet and still for a few seconds before nodded. "Probably so. It's kind of part of the atmosphere at work."
"If you make it that way," he said reasonably.
"Yeah, I guess," I admitted.
I had a whole sequence of thoughts about my alcohol and drug use during in the past year. None of my choices felt wrong at the time, but looking back on them I knew I could've chosen a better path—one that would have made me proud to be seeing Michael right now rather than ashamed.
"I should have been a better person," I said.
"It looks like you're not doing too bad for yourself," he said. "You have a nice place here."
"Thank you," I said.
He sat there, holding me for a few long seconds while I thought of what to say next.
"How's your motorcycle shop going?" I asked.
"Good. Same as your career, I guess. Working all the time."
"Smiling all the time, but hardly happy," I added.
"Yep."
I lifted my head from his chest and pulled back to stare at him. "Are you agreeing to that?" I asked.
"Agreeing to what?"
"To being hardly happy," I said. "Did you say you were hardly happy, too?"
His mouth lifted upward just slightly in the hint of a smile and he nodded.
"Why are you hardly happy?" I asked, squeezing him as I waited anxiously for his answer.
"Because my girl's been gone from me, Ivy."
"You mean me?" I asked. I felt all tingly at the sound of being called his girl.
He tugged me, pulling me closer. I was almost sitting on his lap. "Ivy, it killed me to let you go."
I stared straight at him, thinking he would say something more, but he didn't.
"Why did you do it?" I whispered.
"Because someone came to me with a threat," he said.
"My dad?" I asked, hoping against hope that it wasn't the truth.
"No, not your dad."
"Who was it?" I asked.
"It doesn't matter. Looking back, it should have never happened. I thought I was making the right choice, the choice that was best for you, but now I know I was wrong."
"You were definitely wrong if you broke up with me for my sake," I said. "My sake wanted to be with you. My sake only wants to be with you." I leaned in, resting my head on his chest again. He held me tightly, and I took a deep breath.
"I've never for a second stopped loving you, Ivy."
I left my face resting against his chest, but I lifted my hand, letting my fingertips gently explore his jaw and the side of his face. He used to always be clean-shaven, but he had some short facial hair lining his jaw, and I let my fingers roam over it.
"Are you saying you still love me now?" I asked.
I felt so nervous and vulnerable that the words came out too softly.
"What?" he asked.
"You said you never stopped loving me, and I wondered if that includes now. I wonder if you still love me now, today, after I was such a terrible person last night."
"I love you so much, Ivy."
"Do you forgive me for last night?"
"I would forgive you for a thousand last-nights."
"You won't have to," I said. I cozied up next to him, tucking my head into the crook of his neck.
"Was it Stephen's dad?" I asked after a minute or two of comfortable silence. "The one who threatened you?"
"How'd you figure?"
I knew by his question that I was correct. Otherwise he would have just denied it. "Because Stephen came up here a few months ago and told me he was planning on asking me to marry him. He wanted to make sure I was prepared to say 'yes'."
"What did you tell him?" Michael asked.
"I didn't even really take him seriously," I said, remembering how it all went down. "He drove all the way over here for one of my shows, and I didn't think it'd be nice to ignore him, so I told him he could come by here afterward. I had a bunch of people over. He told me he had come to propose, and that was so far from my mind that I actually laughed at him like I thought he was joking. He went home right after that. He could see I had my own life and I wasn't the same girl who would humor him the way I used to do when we were younger." I paused and shrugged. "That was a few months ago, and Mom mentioned yesterday when she was here that he just got engaged to Loretta Collins, so I guess he wasn't too beat up about it."
"Well, I don't plan on moving on so easily," Michael said.
"You don't?" I asked, feeling happy and hopeful.
"Nope."
"It's a good thing I have no intention of refusing you," I said. I cringed inwardly, remembering how I pleaded with him to leave the night before. "Thank you for not giving up on me last night. Thank you for staying."
Michael rubbed my head as a way of telling me he wouldn't think of leaving. "Your brother came to see me yesterday," he said. "He's such a good kid. So smart."
"I know he is. He told me when he left the other day that he was gonna fix everything." I shook my head. "I didn't know he would actually do it."
"I'm glad you feel better," he said.
"Me too."
He patted my arm. "Speaking of things that will make you feel better… let's get up, and I'll make you some breakfast."